


The Price of Freedom, The Value of Ties

by Radclyffe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Greg, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radclyffe/pseuds/Radclyffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Plainjane's Omegaverse fic "Held in Trust" Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade are an established bonded couple. In Chapter Eight Greg explains to John how the relationship nearly foundered. I was intrigued by this and curious to know more. So here is my version of events - a tribute to Plainjane's work which I hope is acceptable. (I should have said - it might help to read that first).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Price of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Held in trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/938705) by [PlainJane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlainJane/pseuds/PlainJane). 



Mycroft Holmes walked briskly through St James’s Park, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and the rhythmic tap of his entirely superfluous umbrella on the ground as he walked. Having satisfactorily and swiftly concluded his business in The Hague that morning he was looking forward to the rare treat of returning to his home in Birdcage Walk before midnight. It truly was the most beautiful April afternoon; Mycroft observed to himself, how had Tennyson put it? The kind _“when a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love”._ The weather and season apart the quotation was hardly appropriate; for despite his relative youth (he was after all only 23) and boyish looks, Mycroft had never been what could be described as a _young_ man, and as for thoughts of love, he reflected sadly well he still harboured those, but thoughts of _being loved_ , they had been banished years ago.

Although he was not expected home at such an early hour, his footman, trained to anticipate his master’s every need opened the front door just as Mycroft reached the top step.

“Good afternoon Sir” Jerrold inclined his head in what may or may not have been taken as a bow. He held out his hands and relieved Mycroft of his coat and umbrella.

Mycroft stopped, observed the slight creased in the footman’s brow, the even slighter downturn of his mouth. Standing stock still in the hallway of his home, Mycroft’s nose twitched, he inhaled deeply, and he caught the ominous whiff of French tobacco mixed with Estee Lauder’s Youth Dew and overlaid with the heavy scent of Alpha matriarch.

“ _Madam_ e Holmes?”

“In the drawing room, Sir”

“Long?”

“27 minutes Sir, I had tea taken in”

“Thank you Jerrold, an urgent summons, better make it the PM, if I’m not out in an hour”

“Understood Sir” and with another incline of the head the manservant withdrew.

Mycroft stood by the door to the drawing room; he took a deep breath, counted to ten and exhaled slowly. He repeated this exercise a few times and was gratified to find that with each breath his heart rate decreased to a more acceptable level and that his hand on the door handle seemed steadier. “ _Dieu me Garde de Calomnie_ ” he murmured to himself as he turned the handle and breezed into the room

“Mummy” he exclaimed in faux delight “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

******************

Lady Holmes sat poised and elegant by drawing room fire, legs neatly tucked beneath the chair, back ramrod straight in the way she had been taught at finishing school some thirty-five years earlier. A statuesque woman in her early fifties she favoured her elder son’s auburn colouring although she had not been a natural redhead for some years. She met Mycroft with an appraising look, inclined her cheek and Mycroft dutifully bent, pursed his lips and kissed the air at the side of her head.

Mycroft returned the appraising look with one of his own taking in the lavender two piece – Chanel of course – and the black accessories, not a funeral then, but a solemn occasion nonetheless.

“Henry Van Der Westhuizen’s memorial service, at the Abbey” Lady Holmes answered Mycroft’s unspoken question, reading her son like an open book as ever “He was a bore but Selene and I were at school together so I thought I ought to show my face if not my respects. The Dean asked to be remembered to you, said you were still the brightest boy he’d ever taught divinity, even though you didn’t believe a word of it”

“I trust the service was satisfactory”

“They do that sort of thing very well at the Abbey. Sycophantic in the extreme but no more than expected. The eldest grandson read a poem”

Mycroft detected the tiniest hint of emotion in the voice and wondered at it, his mother was not one for sentiment and certainly the passing of mildly disliked acquaintance was not the occasion for it.

“I can’t stay long…Sherlock” here Mummy paused searching for an appropriate expression. “…well Sherlock is still fragile and heaven knows what he’ll get up to while I am away, your Papa is supposed to be keeping an eye on him as if that is reassuring”

Mycroft made what he hoped was a suitably sympathetic sound. His sixteen year old brother was presently rusticated from school following an incident with controlled substances. Something that even his emotionally distant parents couldn’t ignore, well not entirely. He murmured something about not detaining his mother which she brushed aside with an impatient sweep of her hand.

“No need for social pleasantries Mycroft, I’ll say what I am here to say and be gone. This funeral has once more raised the matter that you seem intent on avoiding.  Selene Van Der Westhuizen’s six months younger than I am, yet she’s has four grandchildren and another one on the way. Margery Calthorpe’s has two and even Beattie Allenby’s frightfully plain Omega daughter’s in the family way. I am becoming the object of my friends’ pity and you are the cause. It’s time to stop pussy footing around with your Omega and get on with breeding. Where is he by the way?” She looked around the room suspiciously as if Mycroft was hiding his bondmate behind the curtains or under a cushion.

The question was so out of the blue that Mycroft faltered in his reply; in over six years he’d never heard his mother acknowledge the existence of his bond. “Gregory… at work, he’s um…working this evening”

Lady Holmes shot her elder son the look that had reduced him to a quivering wreck since infancy; it took all his physical and mental resources to suppress a shudder.

“Don’t compound your shame with a lie Mycroft Holmes; Gregory Lestrade no more lives under this roof than I do!  I don’t know what goes on in that bond of yours, I don’t want to, but six years bonded and no progeny, what are you? impotent?”

Mycroft blushed to his roots and uttered an outraged “Mother!” but Lady Holmes was not to be distracted.

“Why not call a spade a spade, you either are which means you need medical attention or you are not which means your Omega does”

Mycroft drew on his renowned diplomatic ability and took a deep breath “for your information neither Gregory nor I require intervention of that sort, may I suggest you refrain from further enquiries of that nature”

But despite his bravado Mycroft was no match for the full force of his mother’s ire.

“Then you are using contraception which in a bonded childless couple is an anathema. Desist and rectify this heinous situation immediately.  You are not required to sire a football team, Mycroft, no need to look like you’re about to choke, just an heir and spare like your Papa and me” she grimaced as if her next thought was particularly distasteful “and if it pleases you, in the fullness of time, to allow your Omega to work, I’m sure that he could find himself a little job to keep himself occupied once the children were out of short trousers”

“But Mummy…”

“No buts Mycroft, you are neglecting your duty to me, to your family and to society as a whole. If you continue to live apart from your Omega and ignore your obligation to breed with him you are unworthy of the Holmes name”

At that moment Jerrold entered and announced that Lady Holmes’ car had arrived. She stood, gathered her gloves and handbag and without further connection with her son walked to the door where she turned and stared directly at him.

“I think I have made myself clear Mycroft, this time next year we expect to be a grandmother”

Mycroft capitulated first, and with a triumphant look Lady Holmes swept from the room.

The moment he heard the front door close, Mycroft reached for the packet of Gauloises that his mother had left behind in her haste to make a grand exit, lit one and inhaled deeply. The strong French tobacco made him light headed and reminded him too greatly of his mother to be of any comfort but he smoked it, and then lit another one immediately. By the time the second cigarette was extinguished Mycroft was calmer and his thought processes had begun to function again. He acknowledged that the subject of children was not going to go away, disappear in a puff of smoke like his mother’s cigarettes. He admitted to himself that he was not adverse to the idea of parenthood. Yes, he was only 23 but Gregory was two years older, the optimum age to start the breeding cycle. The image of a bonny baby with his brains and Gregory’s (heaven forbid his) looks had flashed into his mind; it conjured up sensations that were not unpleasant.  A second image, that of his Omega, skin soft and stretched and big with child filled him with guilty desire.  By the end of the third cigarette Mycroft was resolved. He glanced at his watch, was it really only ten past five? He rang the bell and when the footman appeared Mycroft gave the order “I shan’t be in for dinner after all. Have James bring the car round at seven”.

******************

As he showered and made himself ready his thoughts wandered to Gregory and the night they had bonded. For all his intelligence Mycroft had been a late developer and given little thought to the process of bonding, a subject that he never broached at home and carefully avoided at school. He had secretly hoped for a younger Omega, that way the whole business could be delayed for at least a couple of years. In some convoluted way he had also reasoned that a younger boy (and he had so hoped it would be a male Omega) would suit him better, there would be the possibility then of Mycroft impressing his mate with his knowledge and maturity, heaven knew he didn’t have much else to impress an Omega with apart from the obvious and all Alphas were built that way. If Mycroft had dreamed of his perfect mate at all it was of a nice quiet, studious boy from a good family, that he would like the look of and who wouldn’t be too revolted by him. There was no point in idle thoughts of being loved for himself, but respect and affection, that was manageable surely? The brittle unhappiness of his parents’ bond had hammered home to him the misery of being unequally yoked. Bound together by dislike and distaste, over the years his papa had retreated to the world of academia, numbing his disappointment with books and alcohol while his mother retaliated by becoming increasingly shrill and shrewish. Please he’d implored a god he didn’t believe in, spare me that.

Of course nothing had prepared him for Gregory. He’d been on his own at home when the heat markers had reached him, it was the long vac and Mummy and Papa had been in Marbella with Sherlock. The scent had hit him like a boot to the groin, leaving him shaking and sweating and crying with frustration and without clue what to do. The servants, a reduced staff due to the absence of his parents, had been at their wits’ end.  Finally, Johnson, who had been Grandpa Holmes’ chauffer and was practically retired himself, had forced Mycroft into the car and driven him the 140 miles from Sussex to Somerset, badgering him at every junction along the way for the right turning. Johnson hadn’t wanted to leave him, saying it wasn’t proper for Mycroft to sign the contract on his own, but he’d been so desperate at the end of the journey with the scent of his Omega filling the air and clouding his judgement he’d practically blackmailed Johnson into letting him go ahead. And Mrs Lestrade had seemed a nice woman and impressed by the Holmes family name so Johnson had allowed himself to be persuaded no harm would come of it.

After he’d signed the contract, shaking so much his signature was hardly recognisable as his own. Mrs Lestrade had led him by the hand upstairs to her son’s room. The scent had grown stronger with every step turning his legs to jelly and flushing his skin with desire. There had been a sensation like fire in his belly and he’d been chronically embarrassed to feel his penis fully engorged. He’d hoped Mrs Lestrade wouldn’t notice (a ridiculous thought his rational self had admonished, why else would he have even been there?).  She’d stopped outside the bedroom door, turned to Mycroft and said in her soft West Country accent, “you take care of my boy now, he’s waited a long time for you” then she had reached up and given Mycroft a quick peck on the cheek before saying as she started down the stairs “there’ll be food and drink outside the door when you need it - you may want to take your clothes off before you go in lovey, just in case they get torn, you know how it is”.

Those words had been his undoing he, Mycroft Holmes, didn’t ‘know how it is’ at all. He’d progressed so rapidly through school that year 9 biology in which reproduction was taught had passed by in a blur of dissected amphibians and he had skipped his AO counselling session to go to Geneva with the school debating society. He stared at the retreating figure of Mrs Lestrade as she made her way back down the stairs and turned his attention to his clothes. At sixteen and a half he already dressed like a prosperous forty something civil servant. Even in the school holidays casual was unheard of. The thought of being naked in front of anyone with the possible exception of his doctor had terrified him but he’d still been sensible enough to recognise the clothes he had on were all he had with him. Finally, after much hesitation he’d managed to remove his shoes and socks, jacket and tie. The crotch of his trousers had become unbearably tight so he’d undone the buttons of his fly. The material was also so sodden from where his cock had been leaking that Mycroft had concluded they were beyond redemption and as discretion was the better part of valour he’d left them on, relying on his braces to keep the trousers on his body.

He had stood outside the door for what had seemed like hours his mind in turmoil, paralysed by fear and crazed by desire, terrified that Mrs Lestrade would return and find him still on the landing but unable to move until, finally, the sound of a low moan had been audible from inside the room. The noise had bypassed his brain entirely and gone straight to his cock. Beyond rational thought he’d opened the door and gone in.

The smell of aroused Omega, his Omega, had hit him like a tornado. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmed light he’d made out the figure of a naked youth on the bed, not the impressionable boy of his daydreams but a young man some two or three years his senior.  Mycroft had catalogued the lightly tanned skin, the taut muscles, the mop of wavy chestnut hair, the finely chiselled cheekbones, the slight cleft in the chin, and the deep brown pools of his eyes. His gaze had moved lower taking in the long legs, firm thighs and the penis jutting proudly from its nest of dark hair and in that moment Mycroft had known his worst fears had come true, nature had paired him with an Adonis.

Mycroft had backed away from the man until he’d crashed into the wall furthest from the bed. His legs had buckled beneath him until he’d found himself sat on his heels, hands clenched into fists pressing into to his eye sockets as if to force the image from his brain. _If only he could just not look, not breathe in, stay like this, not move, then maybe he would survive._

How long he’d sat like that he couldn’t remember but all the time the Omega had been calling out to him “come to me, mate me, knot me, make me yours”. This constant litany of want had destroyed Mycroft’s resolve and he’d torn his hands from his eyes and pushed them down the front of his trousers, his cock was hot and heavy, ready to explode but his touch brought no relief. Unable to stop staring at his Omega, Mycroft had watched the young man writhing on the bed and until his brain had caught up with his eyes and comprehended what the Omega was doing.  He had a long black silicone dildo with a bulbous knot at the base and he was pushing it in and out of his weeping anus.  

“No” Mycroft had shouted jumping to his feet.

“No” He’d cried out again tearing at his clothes, dropping the braces and kicking his way out of his trousers and pants leaving them strewn on the floor where they fell. He hadn’t even tried to negotiate his shirt buttons, still wearing it he’d plunged onto the bed landing heavily on top of the Omega.

“Mine” he’d growled pushing the Omega’s hands and the dildo aside as he’d forced his aching cock into the gaping hole.

“Mine” he’d repeated as he felt his knot begin to swell and he’d clamped his mouth to the base of Gregory’s neck, using his teeth to the pierce the skin that covered the scent gland and lapping at the blood that pooled beneath his lips to make the bond mark “Mine”

# ******************

 

In all they had rutted for three days. Looking back Mycroft had only hazy recall of the details, he remember the almost constant state of panic brought on by total loss of control; the anxiety about the whole proceedings and the inexplicable pain in his chest. Aside from the primeval sounds as they sated their most basic urges they had mated in silence. Mycroft had longed to ask if he was doing it right but could not bear that this beautiful, older Omega might despise him for his ignorance. So Mycroft had ended the encounter in the unhappy knowledge that he had had the chance at something miraculous and had let it slip through his fingers.

Afterwards it had been awkward. He hadn’t known what to say or what to do with his hands. He’d thanked Gregory politely and explained he was going up to Cambridge in a few weeks but would be allowed an exeat if their future heats happened in term time. He’d stammered a great deal he remembered, something about doing his duty and not imposing his will or forcing his attentions, as if his entire vocabulary had been annexed by an author of Victorian Gothic Romances. He’d clumsily applied his lips to his Omega’s forehead, pulled on the tattered remnants of his clothes and fled into the early morning before the rest of the household was awake.  He’d run to the end of the road where he’d found a public phone box and put in a reverse charge call to home, then had sat on the wall watching the sun rise while he waited for the ever faithful Johnson to return and take him away.

The journey back to Sussex had been the longest of his life so far, Mycroft had sat huddled on the back seat of the car shivering with exhaustion, ashamed of his soiled clothes and malodorous body. Every muscle ached; his cock throbbed, no longer with desire but with the aftermath of intense activity. He was covered with myriad bruises and scratches; his mouth was sore, his lips chapped and the skin broken. Most of all his own scent had changed, mingled now with that of his bondmate, and it unnerved him. He wasn’t sure that he liked it; it was too strange, as if he didn’t recognise himself anymore, that he didn’t know who he was.  All he could think of was his Omega; when he closed his eyes or stared out of the window at the sun drenched South Downs, the glancing image of a firm buttock, a warm thigh, the proudly jutting penis, a puckered nipple, the line of his jaw, those bottomless deep brown eyes flashed into his brain. He didn’t just want Gregory, or want to be with him, he wanted to _be_ him. _So this is love then_ , Mycroft said softly to himself and the terror that accompanied the words had reduced him to tears.

******************

Of course it hadn’t been half as bad as he’d imagined back then. Over the last six or so years he had observed his duty to Gregory as an Alpha provider with the diligence and care he applied to all his obligations. He’d been attentive during Gregory’s heats, supported him in his career choice and taken the lease on a small flat in Kennington for him when Gregory had transferred to New Scotland Yard (a transfer that Mycroft had had no small part in). He liked being bonded, it grounded him and as long as they maintained their civil albeit distant relationship, Mycroft could perpetuate the allusion that his heart was unaffected.  

He finished his shower and towelled himself dry. He shaved, despite not really needing to, then entered his dressing room.  Casual was not generally a feature of his wardrobe and the choice was limited to a pair of charcoal grey chinos, a light blue Oxford shirt that his PA had once said suited his colouring, and a suede jacket he’d bought by mistake. Despite this sartorial armour he still viewed his reflection sadly and wished he was more prepossessing. Blind to his strong points, his height and well-proportioned frame, his good bone structure, fine eyes and unusual but arresting colouring; he saw only the whey coloured skin, the already slightly receding hairline and the constant battle with his weight. He splashed himself with something expensive and went downstairs to his study. He kept a key to Gregory’s flat for emergencies, or when Gregory’s heat made it unsafe for him to answer his own front door. There was no reason to suppose his Omega wouldn’t be home but it made sense to be prepared. So, at precisely seven o’clock Jerrold opened the front door and Mycroft went out into the mews where the car was waiting to take him the fifteen minute journey to Gregory’s abode.

The entry phone to the flat elicited no response and after some minutes Mycroft decided to wait inside. He seated himself in one of the armchairs and switched on the electric fire, taking in his surroundings. The flat was so far removed from his own domicile at Birdcage Walk that he was at a loss to comprehend how Gregory tolerated such cramped living quarters, yet it had been his choice. He tried to make himself relax but as an hour passed and Gregory did not return he became restless, had to resist the temptation to go through Gregory’s things. He had never been in Gregory’s home without Gregory being in heat; he wished he’d brought some work with him just to keep his mind from straying to inappropriate thoughts. The small flat was completely permeated with the scent of his Omega and Mycroft was soon all too aware that the desire to see his bondmate was in danger of becoming physical. Eventually, sometime after 9.30pm, just as he had decided to leave, Mycroft heard the key in the door and the weary footsteps of his mate cross the hall way and stop just outside the living room.

He tentatively called out “Hullo Gregory, it’s only me” as Gregory came into the room.

“Blimey Mycroft you nearly give me a heart attack. What you doing here? Somebody ill? Is it Sherlock?”

At some point while Mycroft had been at the flat the fine April weather had turned to rain. Gregory had obviously been caught without a coat or an umbrella and the shoulders of his jacket were soaked and his hair plastered to his head. His bondmate looked sad and tired and Mycroft had to fight the urge to gather him into his arms.

“Don’t be alarmed. I let myself in, however I did not anticipate you being quite so late home. I hope it wasn’t a difficult case”

“Paperwork, solving crime would be a doddle if it wasn’t for the paperwork. Still if nobody’s died or dying why are you here? O God, I’m not due on am I?” At this Gregory lifted his wrist to his nose and sniffed “I’ve been so busy I must have lost track of the dates”

“No Gregory, your heat is scheduled for three weeks’ time. I merely intended to see if you were free for dinner…I had something I wanted to discuss with you, something which concerns us both but I appreciate you are tired. I will arrange this for another evening”

“To be honest Mycroft, I am done in. But my workload’s crazy at the minute so if it won’t take long perhaps we could just get it over with. I could do with some kip; I’m back on shift at half six tomorrow morning. Sit back down and I’ll make us a drink, tea all right?”

Sloughing off his jacket he went through to the kitchen and Mycroft heard the sound of water running and then the kettle being put on. Gregory reappeared in the kitchen doorway ineffectually trying to dry his hair with a kitchen towel.

“Sorry, this is a stupid question, but tea, how do you take it?”

“Strong, splash of milk, no sugar, thank you”

A few minutes later Gregory reappeared and placed the tea on the small table between them before sitting down himself on the chair opposite Mycroft.

“So important it can’t wait, but nobody’s died, I’m all ears”

Mycroft swallowed audibly, _this is going to be fine_ he thought, _if only his Omega wasn’t looking quite so tousled and gorgeous, he was struggling to concentrate._ Mycroft launched into the speech he’d rehearsed while waiting.

“Gregory…we have been bonded now for over six years and I think we are both mature enough to know that there should be more to bonded life than this” Mycroft paused hesitated and swallowed again which allowed a silence to form between them. _He hoped to heaven he had got this right_. Before he could continue Gregory spoke.

“I had been thinking the same myself”

“You had?” Mycroft tried to keep the hint of surprise from his voice.

“Yes. I hadn’t been sure about saying anything but if it is any consolation I feel the same”

“You do? That’s marvellous” The hint of surprise in Mycroft’s voice was replaced with one of pure relief _it was going to be all right, Gregory felt the same, of course he did, they were bondmates, of course they were thinking the same,_ such was his happiness he didn’t notice the discordant note in Gregory’s reply.

 _Marvellous_ , the word cut Gregory to the quick _typical Alpha getting his own way without a fight._  But Gregory was too tired, too sad and too lonely to fight for anything. He’d do what his Alpha required of him.

“Well, if that is how you feel, then no need to hang about, we should see a solicitor as soon as possible, I’ll phone round in the morning. I expect you’ve got your own”

“A solicitor?” Mycroft creased his forehead slightly baffled “Gregory pour quoi? I signed a pre-bonding contract; it made full provision for our offspring”

“Offspring, what offspring? We don’t have any offspring” Gregory suddenly wondered if his tiredness was making him confused.

“The offspring of our union. What did you think we were discussing? You said you wanted the same thing”

It was Gregory’s turn to hesitate as the chasm between them opened wider.

“Mycroft, when you said there was more to bonded life, I thought you wanted the same as I want…and I want out”

Mycroft opened his mouth to interject but no words came, a lump had appeared in his throat making speech impossible.

Gregory rushed to fill the gap. “Mycroft, I want out. I want you to give me my freedom”

The word freedom galvanised Mycroft into speech. “Your freedom? You have always had freedom. You have your education, your career, your own home. I never made…unreasonable demands on you, chained you to the nursery like other Alphas do their spouse. I don’t understand. What more freedom is there to bestow?”

Gregory stood up and began to pace the room his eyes never leaving Mycroft as he spat out the words.

“You call that freedom? Freedom to have a mate who only wants me when he can’t best his primitive desires and then ignores me for the other 48 weeks of the year, who works five minutes walk from where I do and has never in two years suggested we meet outside of these four walls. Mycroft , if I am going to live on my own, sleep on my own, wake up on my own then I’m going to do it on my own terms. If I’m going to be pounced on by every predatory Alpha who can smell my desperate loneliness then I’m going to do it as the unbonded Omega that in effect I am.

“You want to know something about the freedom you so generously bestow? I saw you the other day, I was on my way back to the Yard and you were coming out of the Attorney General’s office. I nearly pointed you out to the bloke I was with but what could I say ‘that’s my Alpha over there and now you’ve seen as much of him as I have in the last six weeks’- pathetic...”

At this, Gregory seemed to run out of steam and he fell silent.  The bitterness in his Omega’s voice caused a wave of panic to ripple through Mycroft but his instincts were to defend himself “I have always done my duty by you Gregory”

“I am not your duty, I’m your mate” Gregory countered his voice icily cold “I want a lover, a friend, a companion, in over six years we’ve never been on a date, for a meal in a restaurant, never been for a walk in the park or made love without rutting. God help me, I tried to make allowances while you were still at university, we both had a lot of growing up to do, but once you were in London too, I expected us to be together. Why do you think I let you lease this flat? I only ever thought it would be temporary. Well more fool me, you moved into your own house and your own world and there was no room for me in either of them.

“I know it’s not easy being a bonded police officer, the hours are horrendous, the pressure, the paperwork; I hear the other officers moaning in the canteen, the rows about late nights and missed anniversaries but I also hear the good things, the fun and laughter, the shared hopes, a warm body in the bed after a late shift, someone to talk to after a tough day, someone on your side. What do I have? A duty fuck four times a year.

“This bond is a sham, a travesty, and I have had enough of living a lie, let’s get it dissolved while we’re both still young enough to start again”

While Gregory was speaking Mycroft had raised himself from the armchair. He was deathly pale, paler than usual apart from two fiery red patches across his cheekbones, every muscle in his body appeared taut and his fists were tightly clenched.

“Stop!”

  _This is it_ , Gregory thought, _he’s had enough. He’s going to play the Alpha and beat this insubordination out of me._ But just as swiftly as the thought appeared it vanished as, almost as in slow motion, Gregory watched his bondmate collapse to the floor, keel over onto his side and pull his legs up close to his chest wrapping his arms around them. Mycroft Holmes, Alpha, brain the size of a planet was lying on the floor, curled up in the foetal position – keening; harsh heart-rending sobs shaking his whole body as he repeated over and over again “I don’t understand, I don’t understand”

Gregory crossed the room to the prone figure of his Alpha; he gently pulled Mycroft into a sitting position and squatted beside him. Gradually as his sobs subsided, Mycroft, still fighting for breath began to speak.

“I don’t understand…I did everything…everything it said…in the c-c-c-contract…I let you finish c-c-c-college, join…the police, move to…London without me. I bought the lease on this flat…I never thought it good enough for you…but it was your c-c-choice. I never…I never forced myself upon you, I waived my rights to your fertility so you could use the birth c-c-control…

“This isn’t about the contract”

“I tried to be c-c-c-considerate during your heats…even though I knew you never wanted me as much as I want you”

Gregory anger returned “Want me? Funny way of showing it, you never come near me”

“I tried not to want you…you are so handsome… c-c-c-confident and strong…way out of my league…I  knew I’d never keep you…not just with the bond alone…so I vowed I would do everything I could to ensure your happiness”

“You honestly thought I would leave you?”

“That first time…when we bonded…I knew it wasn’t any good… If it hadn’t been for heats…you wouldn’t have let me near you again. Every time I c-c-c-came to you, I could smell your disappointment. It wasn’t me you wanted…just a human dildo…someone to satisfy you until the urges passed. I tried so hard not to care, but I did care and I was scared that if you knew how much more I wanted, you’d go away”

“So that’s what you did, you kept your distance to protect yourself”

“Caring is not an advantage, Mummy drummed that into us. She despises Papa, calls him ‘the dickless wonder’ and he loathes her. I didn’t want to end up in a bond like theirs. I deduced if had your independence you would have no cause for complaint, but I see now I was in error. You wish to be with a mate you can love, I understand that.  I will honour my vow, Gregory, if being free to bond with someone else will make you happy then you shall have your divorce”

Gregory sat very still but his mind was racing. He knew the rules, as Mycroft’s Omega he was little more than property, his home, his job, his liberty could all be taken away from him on his Alpha’s whim.  Although it was frowned upon these days, Mycroft was within his rights to mate and breed him continually and without consent. Gregory knew too that the breaking of a bond in a family such as the Holmes was tantamount to social suicide notwithstanding the actual risks to health. He had never for one moment thought that Mycroft would countenance such a monumental step. He gazed at his Alpha sat on the floor of his grotty flat; Mycroft looked about twelve, pale as death bravely fighting back the tears as he sacrificed his own happiness for his Omega’s.

“And what if I’ve already found someone to love”

“Then it is my sincere hope that he, or she, is worthy of so great a prize”

“He is. He’s very intelligent and noble and brave, he always strives to do the right thing, even when it costs him dearly, some people might think he’s cold but I know the passionate nature he hides beneath his well-cut suits. He’s only young but he’s already going places at work and one day he’s going to be the most powerful man in the country. He’s tall and handsome, and has the most amazing eyes, I could stare into those eyes for hours. He’s not skinny, but he’s not fat either, he’s just right. He has legs that go on for ever and the most fabulous arse and his cock…well let’s leave it there, just say we were made for each other”

Mycroft‘s head had fallen forward to rest on his knees when his Omega had started to describe his lover but as Gregory continued he had lifted his head again. His eyes met Gregory’s, the expression questioning, almost hopeful.

“It’s you, you daft pillock…it’s always been you. How can someone as clever as you not know that?”

“But you were so disappointed?”

“With the situation, yes, but not with you, never with you”

 “Please…Gregory…Let me try again, I want to make our bond work, but I don’t know how”

“Three little words Mycroft that’s all it takes”

 

Mycroft creased his forehead “I don’t understand”

“Wrong! Try again!” Gregory replied but there was laughter in his voice now, laughter and love.

“Don’t leave me?”

“Still wrong, dearest, try harder”

Mycroft gazed into the deep brown eyes that had bewitched him from the first, happiness at last within his grasp, if he just could reach out and grab it. _Brave Gregory had called him, he could be brave._

“I…love…you”

Immediately Gregory stood up pulling the still trembling Alpha to his feet with him and folded Mycroft into his arms and held him tight. “There, that wasn’t too difficult was it?” Their lips met briefly then Gregory guided the Alpha’s head so it nestled on his shoulder, just above the collar bone where his scent was strongest. As he breathed steadily and deep Mycroft ‘s shaking ceased.

“Now this is what we are going to do” Gregory spoke quietly, punctuating his words with kisses “We are going to finish our tea, brush our teeth and then we are going to go into my pokey little bedroom and take each other’s clothes off, get into bed and spend a long time getting to know each other with our hands and mouths and then we are going to make love nice and slowly. And I am going to tell you how handsome, intelligent and virile you are and you are going to tell me how handsome and brave and desirable I am and then, when we cannot possibly stay awake any longer, we are going to fall asleep in each other’s arms. And that is what we are going to do every night from now on, every night that I’m not on duty and you’re not in Paris or Washington or Timbuktu or wherever your work takes you. Then, only then, once we have a bond based on love instead of fear we’ll go out to dinner and have that little talk about bringing a child into this world”


	2. The Value of Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Alpha Mycroft and Omega Greg prompted by PlainJane's 'Held in Trust' - the couple work on establishing their bond based on love. Started as an epilogue and has ended up longer than the original piece. Hope I haven't ruined that by writing this, Greg's a bit OOC, blame it on hormones. First go at writing sex and I'm afraid it shows.

Despite their good intentions to make a go of their bonded life things did not get off to the most auspicious start. Mycroft and Gregory were both so emotionally drained by the events of the evening that although they did drink their tea, brush their teeth and climb into Greg’s bed they were incapable of doing very much when they got there. Mycroft was still too unsure of himself to attempt penetration without the impetus of heat and Greg really _DID_ have to start work at 6.30am the next morning. Fortunately kissing and cuddling were so novel that each excused the other from anything more strenuous, and they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and happiness.  The next day a reluctant Mycroft had departed, not to Paris, Washington or Timbuktu, but on a ten day trade delegation tour of Latin America; his return found Greg embroiled in an exhaustingly difficult case of child abduction so before they knew it they were clearing their schedules to attend to Greg’s heat.  The week’s enforced absence meant some serious catching up to do at work for both of them so in all well over a month passed before they made love for what they came to regard as the first time.

For both men it was a revelation, they explored each other slowly with leisurely movements taking time to discover the mysteries and delights of each other’s body. Mycroft was calmed by the knowledge that Gregory had known him as a fumbling schoolboy and yet loved him. Greg now fully comprehended the passion Mycroft felt for him beneath his natural reserve.  For Mycroft it was a sublime pleasure to use his tongue to caress and his teeth to nibble rather than biting and sucking, to feel Gregory’s hands gently running the length of his body instead of clawing and scratching, cupping the cheeks of the Alpha’s arse as he enticed Mycroft to enter him, rather than pulling and tearing at his flesh in the fever of mating. Although they considered this and subsequent early pairings a great improvement on their previous experiences they remained conscious of their woeful ignorance regarding matters of sex. However they now regarded this as a challenge rather than a threat and applied themselves to remedying the gaps in their knowledge with the dedication they brought to their respective employments.  Greg while on an undercover operation in Soho had the opportunity to obtain a copy of a video entitled _For Alpha Eyes Only_ and while Mycroft found fault in the depiction of the Russian Secret Service (‘Mycroft we are not watching for the storyline!’) and Gregory suspected the film had been poorly edited (surely sex shouldn’t be quite so jerky?) a number of enjoyable evenings were devoted to working through the film’s more credible scenes. Mycroft, not to be outdone had, on a trip to Hamburg, secured a rare edition of the out of print _Wie Sie Ihren Omega befriedigen_ which, hidden by the dust jacket of _Die Leiden des jungen Werthers,_ he had read and memorised on the plane home, a fact that had caused a number of his colleagues to wonder quite what it was about Geothe’s classic that made Holmes so hot under the collar! Mycroft had wasted no time in applying the suggestions gleaned from the book to his Omega something that had caused both of them to be late for work the next day.  With this assiduous acquisition of information they established beyond doubt what Gregory liked (anything that involved the application of Mycroft’s mouth to his neck, nipples, cock or rim) and what Mycroft liked (everything!).

In addition to the blossoming of their physical relationship they worked hard at the other areas of their bonded life. Greg eavesdropping in the staff canteen became aware of the concept of ‘date night’ an idea he swiftly introduced to Mycroft. As a result they resolved to spend at least one night a week exclusively in each other’s company.  It wasn’t always easy, they both had punishing schedules but with dedication they achieved a respectable success rate. They sampled a fair number of meals in restaurants: French (too fancy); Chinese (too filling); Indian (too spicy); Moroccan (too messy); Thai (just right), they attended the theatre even venturing into the world of musicals: ‘Miss Saigon’ (Gregory cried); ‘Les Misérables’ (Mycroft cried); ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ (they both cried but not for the same reason). Greg took Mycroft to his first football match (surprisingly thrilling – Mycroft didn’t opened his book once) while Mycroft initiated Gregory in the mysteries of cricket (which lead to an unplanned afternoon in bed after rain stopped play and a planned fortnight’s holiday in Sri Lanka that coincided with the England test series). As their bond strengthened they came to appreciate and humour their individual tastes in clothes: (“Mycroft, are you seriously telling me you’ve never owned a pair of jeans?”; “Gregory how can you possibly not possess a cummerbund?”), music: (“Mycroft, why is that fat woman standing around singing in a cast iron bra?”; “Gregory, why is that bony woman dancing around singing in a conical brassiere?”) and food: (“Mycroft, cake will not kill you”; “Gregory, neither will vegetables”). 

Gradually Mycroft accepted he did not have to starve himself to be thought beautiful, while Greg learned he did not have to change his accent to be thought smart.

Mycroft had had a conversation with his mother which culminated in two words one beginning the other ending with ‘f’.

The final seal on their bond was the time they spent together in the quiet of their own house. Mycroft had offered to find a place they could call ‘theirs’ but Greg immediately realised they would never match the perfection of Birdcage Walk and once he had his way over the servants (“do not expect to fuck me on the dining room table Mycroft, while Jerrold is still in the house”) it swiftly became a place that both of them could call home. They celebrated the arrival of the last of Greg’s possessions from the flat in Kennington by giving the servants the weekend off and making love in every room in the house (fourteen).  However their perfect evening was to close the door on the world, curl up very close on the sofa with a takeaway and watch rubbish television. Gregory loved spy films (Mycroft was prohibited from pointing out the flaws in the plot) and Mycroft loved crime series (Gregory was prohibited from pre-empting the dénouement) but most of all they loved _each other_.

They celebrated the twelve month anniversary of their rapprochement with dinner at the Savoy then Mycroft was persuaded to a club and dancing. More accurately Greg danced while Mycroft shuffled his weight nervously from one foot to the other until Greg had taken pity on him and whisked him off the dance floor, out of the club and into a waiting taxi. They had snogged all the way home as if their lives depended on it barely making it through the front door before hands, lips, clothes were everywhere. “Bed” Mycroft commanded, chasing his Omega up the stairs, breathless from laughter and kisses as shoes, socks, shirts, ties and a single waistcoat went flying across the landing to the eventual despair of both Mycroft’s tailor and housekeeper.

They reached their bedroom and quickly divested themselves of the remains of their clothing before collapsing into their king sized bed and a long and passionate kiss. Highly aroused and eager Greg shimmied into the centre of the bed and assumed his usual position to receive Mycroft. But nothing happened. Gregory shuffled down the bed and opened his legs a little wider but still Mycroft didn’t move. Greg was baffled by Mycroft’s hesitation; _surely he could not have misread the moment?_

“What’s up? What’s the matter? I thought you were gagging for it?” he looked up at his Alpha, not since that first night twelve months ago had Mycroft seemed so uncertain. He rolled over onto his side and pulled Mycroft down to face him, cheek to cheek so he could whisper in his ear. “Tell me what’s wrong My, don’t close off from me”

“I…” Mycroft paused; Greg could feel the heat from his face “I… want you to do it to me”

“What?”

“Like in the film, I want you to penetrate me”

Greg was temporarily robbed of speech then he smiled to himself and snuggled closer to his Alpha.

“Dearest, that was porn; you can’t always do what you see in a porno”

“But it is possible, I do it to you, you could do it to me”

“Mycroft, my body is designed to accommodate yours, Omegas are naturally pliant” Greg lowered his voice “Alphas don’t self-lubricate you know. It would be horrible and painful for you”

“Not necessarily, it doesn’t have to be, I read it in the book” Mycroft replied almost petulantly “it is possible to open and lubricate artificially”

Greg was stunned; this was foreign turf, he was amazed that Mycroft wanted this. He watched as Mycroft reached over to his bedside cabinet and pulled open the drawer, rummaged past the cufflinks and tiepins and produced a small plastic bottle which he passed to the Omega. Greg knew without asking what it contained. 

“How long have you had this?”

Another marked pause before Mycroft answered “a little”

 “How long have you wanted this?”

“Ever since the film, I didn’t know before…that it was possible”

Greg saw that the bottle of lube wasn’t full and raised an eyebrow at Mycroft in an unspoken question. Mycroft blushed scarlet “I’ve been practicing, building up the courage, building up the capacity, so to speak”

Greg was surprised and the emotion flitted across his face. Mycroft picked up on it immediately and recoiled. He turned to curl up on the bed with his back to Greg and as much distance between them as possible and whispered “Forgive me, I should never have mentioned it, you are naturally shocked and disgusted and I apologise. Please, let us agree this conversation never took place”

Greg moved swiftly to enfold his beloved’s body with his own and reassure him “Don’t put words into my mouth. I’m not shocked or disgusted, a little surprised that all… it’s just I never…I never dreamed that you would…want me that way” Traditionally Alphas were disparaging of the Omega penis, it being so much smaller than their own, regarding its primary purpose as urination; while Omegas could and often did ejaculate during orgasm they didn’t produce sperm and their penis was generally considered by Alphas to be a secondary sexual organ. But Gregory was not bonded with a traditional Alpha, and he thanked his lucky stars for it “Mycroft, you always please me and put my pleasure first, if I can do this for you, I will”

“Gregory…”

“No more Mycroft, I want to try, I want to very much”

Mycroft leapt from the bed “Let me…er…let me use the bathroom, I’ll be right back, please Gregory, please don’t change your mind”

Greg shifted in the bed until he was lying on his back head slightly raised by the pillows, from their en suite he heard sounds of water running. _Really_ , he thought, _Mycroft should have no worries, there was no danger of him changing his mind, he’d never been so turned on in his life, even during heat, the real difficulty would be lasting long enough to make it happen_.

Maybe ten minutes later, Greg had been lost in thought, Mycroft climbed into bed and lay down on his back, muscles tense and breath shallow; Greg could tell that despite his certainty he was anxious. Although he was unused to taking charge in the bedroom, Greg had plenty of experience in taking charge at work. In his best police officer’s voice he ordered Mycroft onto his side, and told him to curl with his back to Greg as he had before. Greg had no idea what would work for his Alpha but he knew what he liked himself and that seemed a good enough place to start. He nestled closed to Mycroft and began to kiss him down the length of his back. Starting at the nape of his neck he kissed and licked and nuzzled at every ridge of Mycroft’s spine, the skin was softly pink, slightly damp and sweet smelling, he’d obviously used his sojourn in the bathroom to shower. Greg reached the base of the spine just above the cleft of Mycroft’s arse and paused to suck and graze the skin lightly with his teeth. Mycroft groaned and shivered. _Like that do you?_ Gregory thought _I’ll have to remember that one._ He nudged Mycroft forward slightly so he was not quite lying on his front and then shifted himself so he could part his lover’s buttocks to expose the virgin entrance. Still vaguely disbelieving what he was about to do he bent his head and licked a strip from the perineum to the coccyx,  Mycroft bucked as if electrocuted and moaned, a sound so dirty Greg had to quickly give his own cock a squeeze to stop himself coming in reply. He steadied himself with thoughts of the paperwork on his desk and began again. This time he circled the puckered hole lapping with his tongue while Mycroft sighed and whimpered, round and round he swirled occasionally venturing to brush across the anus itself before finally rolling his tongue to form a point and forcing it through the tight ring of muscle.  Getting comfortable Greg settled into his stride, tongue fucking Mycroft firmly and feeling the muscle loosen in response, _god no wonder Mycroft liked to do this to him, it was an incredible turn on,_ frantically he focused his mind on a particularly dull training session on data entry and case recording, slowly the urge to orgasm faded. Several minutes passed with Greg mesmerised by the rhythmic pace of his tongue poking Mycroft’s arse, and Mycroft almost comatose with passive pleasure only the soft tremor rippling his body indicating he was still conscious. Suddenly, just as he was beginning to tire Greg heard his name as Mycroft whispered brokenly “more…please…Gregory…please…more”

Greg withdrew his tongue, quickly retrieved the lubricant from where it lay on the bed and poured a dollop of the liquid onto his hands, rubbing them together to coat his fingers. He returned his attention to Mycroft’s hole sliding first one and then two fingers in as far as the knuckle, meeting surprisingly little resistance, what Mycroft had said about building capacity was true. Greg wished he’d taken more notice of the particular scene in the film but he knew scissoring could be helpful to virgin Omegas so he gently prised his fingers apart and made a similar movement inside Mycroft’s tight passage. It may have lacked finesse but it made up for it in efficiency, the muscle relaxed further and Mycroft’s moans grew louder. Greg swiftly applied more lubricant to his hands and carefully coated his cock; he placed the pillow from his side of the bed level with Mycroft’s hips before nudging his Alpha forward again until this time Mycroft lay on his stomach his arse slightly raised. Greg stretched himself out over his lover positioning his own body within Mycroft’s open legs easing the cheeks of his Alpha’s arse apart as he did so. His wayward cock batted at the side of Mycroft’s anus causing him to cry out. Greg cursed himself silently for his clumsiness and leant forward to nuzzle Mycroft’s neck to soothe him. His second attempt was more successful and his aching cock took position directly over Mycroft’s pliant ring. He pushed at the opening, at first it seemed that despite his efforts it would still be too tight but suddenly the sphincter gave way and with a slight pop Greg found himself surrounded with the marvellously erotic heat of his lover.

The sensation was overwhelming, Greg immediately pulled out then pushed in again; his body took over, mimicking the actions of an Alpha as he plunged back and forth. He desperately wanted to come but at the same time wanted to make it last for Mycroft’s sake, he conjured up the memory of a mind-numbing lecture on the history of public order offences and breathed deeply. He gradually built up a satisfying rhythm unbelievably turned on by the soft slap of his balls hitting his lover’s arse and the tiny mewling sounds that Mycroft emitted in return, _oh how he loved him, this emotionally complex man, who loved HIM enough to let his Omega take him as an Alpha would._ Greg pressed on, searching with his cock for the sweet spot inside Mycroft that held the key to pleasure. He found it on the third go, and was rewarded by Mycroft’s cry of ecstasy as he bucked so violently Greg was nearly dislodged. Greg pressed again spurred on by the sounds his lover was making, he wanted Mycroft to come first but he knew he couldn’t last much longer, no amount  of thinking about work could postpone the inevitable. He reached beneath them so his palm came to rest on Mycroft’s stomach and began to gently move his hand to and fro massaging the taut flesh of his Alpha’s belly while grazing the cock with his knuckles at the same time. Mycroft’s keening grew louder, a few broken words escaped from his mouth “faster… again…please… Greg…ory…o so full …god…again… please… harder… fill me… _NOW!_ ” He tensed, shuddered and came. The pleasure was overpowering, Mycroft’s buttocks clenched, each spasm deep within gripping the cock inside him tighter than the last until Greg could hold back no longer and his own climax overtook him.

They stayed like that motionless, silent now, still together while they gradually returned to the planet. Mycroft murmured as Greg eased his softening cock from his plundered body, Greg quietened him with a kiss. He pulled the ruined pillow from beneath the Alpha’s body and held him close. There would be time in the morning to discuss what had passed between them, time still to discuss repeating it, until then it was time to sleep.

************************

Greg opened his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside cabinet. It was ten to eleven; he groaned and gave thanks for days off. He had just registered that Mycroft wasn’t in bed beside him when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and his nose recognised the smell of his Alpha, coffee and deep joy…bacon!

“I should be waiting on you really, how are you this morning? Not too sore I hope?”

“Tender I think is the best word, you took care of me well Gregory and I am grateful”

“The privilege was all mine” he replied, sitting up in bed and giving Mycroft a mock bow. He looked up at the Alpha “I mean it, it was the most amazing privilege, and one I hope you’ll extend again”

 

Mycroft set down the tray laden with coffee, orange juice and a plate of bacon sandwiches on the bed, he bent his head to his Omega and whispered in his ear “I think you may count  on that” then sat down himself, a little gingerly Greg thought, but with no sign of serious hurt. Mycroft reached over to the cabinet on Greg’s side of the bed, opened the drawer, took out a foil package and placed it besides Greg’s glass of orange juice. Automatically the Omega reached for it, popped a pill from the blister pack and half raised it to his mouth before pausing, lifting his head until his eyes met Mycroft’s.

“I’m ready”

Mycroft didn’t have to ask what Gregory referred to, he watched as his beloved put the pill back down on the tray “are you sure?”

“As sure as I know that I love and trust you. If I didn’t know before, I know after last night you see me as an equal, a partner and a man not just as a breeding machine. I don’t need anything else to convince me, I think we have a bond that is strong enough to raise a child in. I don’t want to take these anymore”

Mycroft’s eyes brimmed with tears “I promise you, I will never give you cause to regret this decision”

Gregory slid out of bed, took his Alpha’s hand, kissed him and led him to the bathroom where they ceremoniously flushed the remaining contraceptives down the loo. 

Seven weeks later, they shared heat and their son was conceived.

************************

Greg had intended to work up to as close to his due date as possible but nature had intervened. He’d had a rotten pregnancy and that was a fact.  Morning sickness had plagued him from the second week and had hardly abated.  He’d been able to keep down enough food and water to avoid hospitalisation but for five months he’d thrown up nearly all day every day and lost almost three stone.  He was still repulsed by most food and overcome with nausea several times a day. Even worse he was totally exhausted, Greg felt like one of those tragic girls in Victorian novels who almost always died young – like Beth in Little Women – all he lacked was smelling salts. He’d been moved to a desk job once his pregnancy was confirmed but work was increasingly difficult. On days when he could drag himself in, he hardly got anything done and often had to sneak off to rest, throw up, faint or all three; his days off were spent asleep. Meanwhile, Mycroft’s star was in the ascendency, when he wasn’t out of the country (and it seemed he was spending much more time abroad as Gregory’s pregnancy progressed) his job required his presence at an ever increasing number of important functions, which Greg was either too ill to attend or if he did manage to rouse himself to put in an appearance at his Alpha’s side, found himself having to leave early, go home and lie down. The embassy garden party where Greg had thrown up into the bushes and the reception for the president of France where he had fainted were two of the outstanding low points in a catalogue of misery. After fourteen months of blissfully satisfying togetherness Greg was too tired to go out, too tired to stay awake and too tired for sex. He was petrified that Mycroft would leave him. As his pregnancy advanced and his belly grew he felt fat and ugly and that Mycroft’s unashamed delight in his body was lost forever. He gained high blood pressure, heartburn, swollen ankles, back ache and dry flaky skin to add to his troubles. Finally a despairing Mycroft had ordered Gregory to a private obstetrician who had diagnosed hyperemis gravidium, medication did something to alleviate the worst of the physical symptoms and he did at last begin to put on weight but it did nothing for Greg’s heartache. Mycroft was patience personified but despite his reassurances Greg felt that it was somehow his own fault that the pregnancy wasn’t going to plan. His one consolation was that such a difficult pregnancy was unlikely to go full term, but once again his body was against him, week thirty eight came and went, so did the obstetrician, and while blood pressure stabilised, flaky skin and baby stayed resolutely as they were.

The obstetrician recommended bed rest from week thirty four and thus added terminal boredom to Greg’s list of woes. He tried to sleep but he couldn’t get comfortable; he tried to make plans for the baby but he couldn’t concentrate, he tried to think positively but he was too sunk in despair. He was glad to be off work as he was exhausted but the loneliness magnified his melancholy, hours merged into days, days into weeks, he lost track of time and of his Alpha.

Today was the last straw, cold and miserable Greg was lying in bed mid-afternoon trying to sleep. He had woken at four in the morning with twinges that had turned out to be Braxton Hicks and then as he’d finally got off to sleep again bloody Mycroft had woken him up saying he was off to Berlin, _at least the thought he said Berlin, perhaps it was some other place beginning with B, Belgrade? Barcelona? Birmingham? No Greg was pretty certain Mycroft had taken his passport. Hang on though, wasn’t there another Birmingham somewhere in America? Perhaps he’d gone there?_ Greg curled up as much as his bump would allow and started to cry, he was thirty nine weeks, five days, eighteen hours and seven minutes pregnant and he didn’t know where his Alpha was.

The rational part of his brain, the 3% that was not over run with hormones and exhausted by pregnancy told Greg that all was fine, that Mycroft couldn’t help the fact he’d had to go to Berlin _(Belgrade? Barcelona? Possibly Birmingham but that still didn’t seem quite right)_ just has Greg couldn’t help that the fact he had not been induced early as expected; something that had seriously messed with Mycroft’s head (and diary).

The less rational side of his brain, which presently comprised 97% of the whole, thought he was going to die, or kill Mycroft, or kill Mycroft and then die. But if he murdered Mycroft he would have to bring up the baby on his own, this thought had made him sad, so he’d cried for a little while and then he’d got angry and decided to kill Mycroft after all, then his tummy rumbled and the baby kicked and he’d thought of his poor little baby with his daddy dead and his papa in prison and so he’d cried a bit more. After this he must have slept because when he woke it was dusk and the room was full of the most beautiful smell in the world, his Alpha was there, sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him anxiously.

Mycroft took in Gregory’s tear stained face and gathered him into his arms “Darling, you’ve been crying” he raised his head and sniffed the air in the room suspiciously “Has my mother been here?”

“I didn’t know where you were”

“But I told you this morning I was needed in Berkshire, Sherlock was missing again”

“Berkshire? But you took your passport. I thought you’d gone a long way away, I thought the baby would come and you wouldn’t be here”

“He’d ended up in the Royal Berks; I took my passport to prove my identity to the hospital that I was there in loco parentis. He’s been discharged and admitted to a rehabilitation unit, though they can’t keep him there if he doesn’t want to stay” Greg sniffled and burrowed deeper into his Alpha’s arms. He noticed that Mycroft was wearing jeans and a brushed cotton shirt and his hair was slightly damp, he must have showered and changed when he’d got home. He smelt divine. Mycroft crooned to the Omega in his arms “O my poor Gregory, you’ve been lying here all alone worrying about me, I would never have left you if I could have avoided it, as it was I wound up the interview with the social worker so fast it is a marvel the earth is still spinning on its axis”

“I’m so sorry you have to cope with Sherlock and me in a mess. I just make things worse”

“Gregory, listen to me. You are my primary concern and always will be, it’s just Sherlock…he’s very lost at the moment and someone has to care. The parents, school, counsellors have all washed their hands of him, no doubt I would have too if you hadn’t taught me the value of ties” Mycroft cradled his Omega, rubbing his back and letting him breathe in his Alpha scent which always soothed him. “Now what can I do to make it up to you? Have you eaten?”

“Jerrold brought me soup”

“Is there anything else you’d like? Some pineapple juice? Raspberry leaf tea? What about a curry?”

“No nothing”

“How about I run you a bath?”

Gregory’s head perked up _, a bath; he hadn’t managed a bath for weeks_ , after nearly forty eight hours in the same stale bed the thought of immersing himself in warm scented water was intoxicating.

“A bath would be good”

“Right, I’ll get it started, don’t worry I’ll help you when it is ready”

Mycroft disappeared into their en suite and shortly Greg heard the sound of the bath being filled. Then he felt the anxiety begin to creep up on him, lured in by the attractive thought of a bath he agreed before he’d remembered he would have to undress, and if Mycroft was to help him, he couldn’t avoid seeing Greg naked. He panicked and dissolved into tears again; grieving for things he hadn’t lost. He was still crying when Mycroft returned “come now, you’ll feel much better when you’ve had a good soak” He assisted his beloved out of bed and led him into the bathroom, once there he helped him out of his sweat stained pyjamas, and to lower his body into the bath then knelt beside it, cupping his hands to pour water over Gregory’s swollen body.  

Greg crossed his arms defensively “Don’t look at me Mycroft, I’m humongous, like a beached whale, you must be disgusted by me”

_How could Mycroft admit to his beloved that the sight of him naked and heavily pregnant had quite the opposite effect?_

“You’re gorgeous, now just stay there and soak for a bit, I’ll be back shortly to help you wash”

Mycroft left the bathroom and went to the linen cupboard in the hall for clean sheets and the fluffiest towels. On his return to the bedroom he swiftly and with surprising expertise stripped and remade the bed before depositing the old linens down the laundry chute. He then went back to the bathroom with the towels and set about washing Gregory’s back, arms and finally hair.  Once Mycroft was satisfied that Gregory was clean and rinsed and had soaked long enough he helped him out of the bath, swathed him in the largest of the towels and gently patted him dry. Wrapped in a fresh towel Greg went back into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, Mycroft followed him; while Gregory was in the bath Mycroft had closed the curtains and turned on the bedside lamp, the heating was up high and the room was warm and cosy.

Mycroft sat down on the bed and slowly removed the towel from his Omega.

“Don’t” Greg protested.

“Darling, let me” Mycroft reached over to the bedside cabinet and picked up a small bottle “I bought this today in the hospital pharmacy. Wheat germ and clary sage. I thought I could… maybe I could give you a massage, maybe help you sleep…” His voice trailed off, uncertain again “if you’d like”

“I’m gross, how can you stand to touch me?”

“Gregory, you are magnificent, I can’t take my eyes off you, please let me do this, stretch out for me and unfold your arms”

Greg felt horribly exposed but he slowly did as his Alpha said.

Mycroft took the bottle of oil and poured a little onto the palm of his hands to warm it and then kneeling lightly astride his Omega set about massaging Gregory starting at his neck and working in smooth strokes across shoulders and the tops of his arms, kneading the tension that the bath hadn’t taken care of and feeling his beloved relaxing further.  He moved down to the chest, caressing the flesh over Gregory’s pectoral muscles, touching in awe the tissue beneath his hands, tender and enlarged in preparation for lactation. “So beautiful” he murmured “breath-taking”.

Gregory’s eyelids began to droop, his mind emptying of everything but the feel of his lover’s hands on his body and the woody, almost bitter, herbal smell of the oil. Mycroft’s hands moved lower, his long slender intelligent fingers tirelessly circling then softly brushing the darkened areola and distended nipples “I can’t believe that you are mine, that I am the Alpha who gets to hold you, touch you, make love you” his voice low, barely above a whisper “That you allowed me to share you heat, to knot you, to breed you” he continued to massage Gregory’s nipples as time froze and oxytocin began to flood the Omega’s senses. Mycroft shuffled further down the bed as using his palms he rubbed slow circles around Gregory’s swollen belly from the sternum through the hips to the pubis and back again. Greg’s normally concave navel was pushed out by the baby; Mycroft couldn’t resist passing his tongue over the exposed bud, Gregory whimpered with pleasure, so Mycroft did it again before continuing the massage babbling words of adoration as he did so. “The last two years have been the happiest of my life; you make me laugh, you give me a reason to come home at night, even when you’re not there. I thought I’d end up another stuffed shirt in a loveless bond, instead I am the luckiest Alpha alive.”

Mycroft pour a few drops of the oil onto Greg’s firm stomach causing the Omega to shiver slightly before Mycroft started to stroke his pregnant belly tracing the line of dark hair that ran from Gregory’s navel to his cock “I could do this all night, the luxury of touching you like this, of feeling our child inside you as proof of what is between us. When I think that I nearly lost it all” There was a catch in this voice as he spoke and Greg leant forward so he could gently stroke his Alpha’s face “don’t…”. They stayed like that a long time, Mycroft oiling and caressing the skin that encased their child, worshipping at the altar of his beloved’s body.

Greg grew restless, Mycroft’s ministrations were arousing his lover, his penis was hot and hard standing proud beneath the swollen belly, Mycroft leaned forwards to whisper in Gregory’s ear “my darling, let me take care of you” without waiting for a reply he bent his head and took Greg’s cock into his mouth. At first he was still, delighting in the fullness then he started to run his tongue around the glans and to tease the crown. He closed his eyes and hummed softly enjoying the feel of the cock beneath his tongue, the unique taste of the clear fluid that leaked from the tip. This act of love, purely devoted to his Omega’s pleasure said all Mycroft felt and more but struggled to put into words. He slid his oiled hands beneath his lover to cup his arse, to stroke and knead his buttocks and raise him slightly from the bed to take him deeper, he suspected that Gregory would not last long and he was determined to give the maximum pleasure in the time available. He relaxed to take in the whole length from the tip to the base, letting the head bump against the spongy palate at the back of his throat, enjoying the slight tickle of Gregory’s pubic hair against his nose and mouth.

Greg felt like he was drowning in a sea of pleasure, he’d done without this for a long time, he couldn’t see his lover mouthing his cock only feel the warm wetness surrounding him which made the sensations all the more acute. The pressure was building up, he was losing the battle, he wanted to let go, he reached down to gently squeeze Mycroft’s forearm in warning. Mycroft shook his head almost imperceptibly; he took his hands out from underneath Gregory, one to stroke the downy balls now drawn high and tight against the Omega’s body while the other grabbed hold of the hand that had touched his arm, giving it a responding squeeze. Never pausing, Mycroft continued to flex his throat to take as much as Gregory could give him “My, o god, My…don’t stop…can’t stop…love you” Greg cried as the cum pulsed from his body.

Mycroft swallowed it all, holding his beloved’s cock soft mouthed until the spasms ceased and Gregory signalled for him to pull away.  Mycroft stood up, stretched and moved awkwardly around the bed to arrange the bedclothes over his beloved.

“Try to get some sleep now my darling, I’ll just be downstairs”

“Don’t go…My please…I‘ve been on my own all day…stay here with me” Greg patted the bed beside him as he spoke, indicating for his Alpha to lie down.

Mycroft was torn, it had been a tiring day, chasing around the Berkshire countryside, there was nothing he could imagine better than to curl up next to his beloved, breathe in his scent and rest in his warmth. But there was something urgent he needed to attend to first. In the shadowy light of the lamp it was just about possible to hide the effect nearly two hours in the company of his naked Omega had had on him but the uncomfortable truth was: he was hard enough to crack concrete.

The pleading look in Gregory’s eyes melted his resolve. He switched off the lamp and quickly stripped, throwing his clothes onto a nearby chair and slipped into bed alongside his beloved. Tucking his rock hard cock between his legs as he did so, he folded his body around his Omega and curled his arm around what used to be Gregory’s waist resting his hand lightly on his bump. He murmured into Gregory’s ear, soft whispers of affection, planting little kisses across the back of his neck, willing him to sleep; if he could just hold on until Gregory fell asleep he could nip to the bathroom and end his torment.

This plan was torpedoed by Greg deciding to wriggle his body against Mycroft’s to get into a more satisfactory spooning position. The effect on Mycroft was electrifying, white hot desire flooded his brain and he hated himself for it. Wasn’t he the worst kind of Alpha to think of abusing his Omega in this way? He was so aroused he could hardly breathe. Greg wiggled his bottom against Mycroft’s crotch again, despite being squashed firmly between his legs, Mycroft’s cock surged and he let out a small moan. Greg reached behind him and stroked his lover’s leg from hip to knee; Mycroft could almost believe that Gregory was doing this deliberately; then the hand slid between the Alpha’s thighs seeking out the missing member and Mycroft _KNEW!_

“Want you”

“Gregory…darling, I mustn’t”

“Want you to…want to feel you inside me. Been too long… missed you”

“I can’t take advantage of you in your condition”

“Not taking advantage…want you to…want to feel sexy again…want to make you moan”

Gregory’s words in his sleepy sultry Omega voice had the desired effect on him, Mycroft squirmed unashamedly and parted his legs so that his cock could rise up to meet Greg’s hand.

“My…please…you want to…I want to”

“But the baby…what if I hurt the baby?”

“Baby tucked up tight…going nowhere…want you”

“But how…?” Mycroft’s brain was fuzzy; there hadn’t been a ‘servicing a pregnant mate’ chapter in ‘How to Please your Omega in Bed’.

“Spooning sex…good position like this, slip your cock into me, just so” Gregory took Mycroft’s right hand in his own and placed it by his gaping hole, Mycroft tentatively push a finger inside, his beloved was undeniably wet and willing; Mycroft’s resolve flickered and died.

“Making love can sometimes start labour” he stated cautiously.

Gregory shifted slightly in the bed so he could meet his lover’s eyes, all sounds of sleepiness vanished from his voice.

“Mycroft Holmes, have you been gossiping with the secretaries?”

Of course he had, the Betas in the office had been fascinated to discover that the reserved young Alpha they worked for was bonded to a charming and handsome detective and even more delighted to discover a baby was on the way. Some of the older women had offered knitting as well as advice. Mycroft wasn’t about to admit he’d accepted both.

Mycroft huffed defensively “I was merely conveying the information that sperm contain prostaglandins, which are chemicals like the ones used in the pessaries that induce labour”

Gregory leant back and kissed the tip of Mycroft’s nose. “Stop pontificating and fuck me”

So Mycroft did as he was told.

There was no knot; this was not the fast and furious rutting of heat rather the gentler more loving sex that they were both so fond of. They lay side by side Greg pushed a pillow between his knees to make it easier to hold his legs apart as Mycroft entered him hesitantly, just the tip at first, concerned that the thrust of his Alpha cock would damage the child within. Greg moved slightly to accommodate his lover more deeply, making soothing, encouraging noises to show much he wanted Mycroft to fuck him well. Mycroft responded by letting his arm fall below the pregnant belly and cupping his hand to surround Greg’s penis which was already half hard again. He pushed back into his Omega more fully this time revelling in the little tremors that picked at his cock as the flesh pulsed around him. Mycroft marvelled at his lover’s body that was so familiar and yet so strangely altered, nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent, placing little open mouthed kisses along Gregory’s spine, delighting in making him shiver and moan.

The position was not one he was used to but he soon adjusted his angle to tantalise Gregory’s prostate with every thrust, building a rhythm so that each push was matched by the push of his lover’s penis through his clenched hand. The tension grew, Gregory’s hole was slick and wet and little suction noises combined with his soft moans to turn Mycroft into a quivering mass of desire. He relaxed the grip of his hand so his thumb could rub across the crown of Gregory’s cock using the droplets of pre-cum he found there to ease the movement. Gregory squirmed at the new sensation and Mycroft increased his pace in reply. All thoughts of caution abandoned Mycroft plunged into the Omega fierce and hard, that instant Gregory broke his cum spurting from his cock and splattering the pregnant mound above it. His body shuddered violently and contracted around the cock that filled him. The spasms toppled Mycroft over the edge so he came long and deeply, emptying himself of everything but love for his Omega.

Gregory rolled over to face his lover and was pulled into his arms and a passionate kiss. They kissed and kissed and kissed before Mycroft fell back, loosening his hold on Gregory before falling into the exhausted haze of post coital bliss. They were still, silent, spent, almost asleep when Gregory’s voice broke through the hush.

“Mycroft!”

“mmm…”

“Are you asleep?”

“mmm…”

“Only I think I could eat that curry now”

************************

Three hours later, just before two in the morning Mycroft woke from a not unpleasant dream where he was swimming with dolphins to Greg shaking him violently, a look of terror on his face.

“What?”

“My, I think it’s starting, I think my waters have broken”

Mycroft went from half asleep to fully awake in an instant. The bed was undeniably damp, that explained the dolphins then.

“Contractions?”

“Every five or six minutes, Mycroft, help me I want to push”

“Don’t push! Hang in there, don’t whatever you do push”

Mycroft jumped out of bed and pulled on the clothes he’d abandoned a few hours before.  Resisting the urge to run round the room crying ‘don’t panic’ (he wasn’t a ‘minor government official’ for nothing) he then helped Gregory into his paternity smock and tracksuit bottoms while phoning the Portland to tell them they were on their way and rousing James from the mews flat to drive them. Grabbing the small overnight bag that had been packed and ready at the bottom of Gregory’s wardrobe for the best part of a month he half carried his trembling Omega down the stairs and out into the courtyard where the car was waiting. Forty minutes later a six and a half centimetres dilated Gregory was being checked into the delivery suite.

Nature was finally kind to Gregory and labour lasted four hours from start to finish. Mycroft was with him throughout stroking his back and encouraging him with words of love and praise as the labour progressed. He remained calm as Gregory squeezed his hand (he had another one) and gripped his arm (the bruises would fade) and threatened him with castration (his eyes would stop watering). He succeeded in not fainting, or getting in the way or shouting at the midwife or anything else that would get him banned from the delivery room, he couldn’t risk missing the moment. Finally with a flurry of activity, some appalling language and plaintive crying their son was born.

The obstetrician declared Gregory well, undamaged and no more tired than to be expected, the paediatrician pronounced the baby healthy, complete and no more noisy than to be expected. Both papa and child were cleaned and dressed in fresh clothing and finally the eight pound two ounce baby boy was placed securely in his papa’s arms while his doting daddy looked on. The medical personnel departed to allow the bonded couple to mingle the scent of their new born with their own, essential for the child’s survival. Mycroft had a fleeting memory of his seven year old self presented with his newly arrived baby brother, had Sherlock once been so fresh and unspoiled? He looked at his infant son in his bondmate’s arms and solemnly vowed to protect them from every kind of harm with his life.

“He looks like a little cherub”

“Cherubs don’t have dark hair”

“An angel then, a little angel”

“If you say so…should we give him a name?”

“I suppose we should, did you think of any?”

“Not Mycroft!”

“Not Gregory!”

“And not one of those dreadful Holmes names like Sherlock or Siger or Sherringford either, that Mummy will insist on”

“I did think, just then about ‘a little angel’. What do you think of Gabriel?”

Mycroft paused, ran the name through his memory bank “I like it. Gabriel Lestrade Holmes, it’s got a certain something to it, Gabriel it is”

Mycroft leant down and kissed his Omega passionately before placing a soft kiss on his son’s cheek.

“Hello Gabriel, welcome to the world”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curries, Clary Sage, hot baths, massage and lots of sex all possible ways of bringing on labour, though not always as effective as in Greg's case. In reality I can't see that a pregnancy as difficult as Greg's would have gone anywhere near full term.

**Author's Note:**

> “Dieu me Garde de Calomnie” (French, "God preserve me from calumny") is the motto of Sidney Sussex College Cambridge. Dorothy L Sayers deduced this was the college Sherlock was most likely to have attended so I have taken the liberty of assuming Mycroft went there too.


End file.
